


Snow hare

by wolfsheepsoup



Category: Metalocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-24 05:26:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/935915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfsheepsoup/pseuds/wolfsheepsoup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>In this story Mordhaus is placed in the Nevada desert.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Snow hare

**Author's Note:**

> In this story Mordhaus is placed in the Nevada desert.

He had marched long, and hard into the night. After nearly avoiding capture wile sneaking off the cargo ship he had finally made it to the states. With only a guitar in his hands and the cloths on his back, sleeping in and ally was his only choice.

 

He awoke at dawn and started his long trek again. Years of harsh living had trained his body, walking long distances meant nothing to him, and hunger could be ignored. He kept to backstreets and allies when he could, and wilderness was always welcome. Fresh water was always on the top of his list.

 

Whenever he was to weak to keep going he would play. Soft, sorrow filled ballads that caused even the trees to weep. Sometimes he would play as he walked attracting animals and people with the sound. No one ever spoke to the strange long haired man who walked the back streets and played his guitar.

 

Soon, his fingertips became bloodied from the strings and his legs heavy from walking, but he kept going, he couldn't stop not until he got there.

 

A month after he had made his way from the ship almost a year sense he left home, He made it to his final stop. He was weak, and tired, but he went on. He leaned heavily on the thick, wooden door, panting heavy. He knocked rapidly, his knuckles bloodying with each hit. The thick doors opened slowly, showing the long shadows of the five men who were going to play his judges this moonless night.

 

“I have, come from a land cursed by even Odin's hands, to....play.” he whispers, even knowing that they can't understand.

 

Sad notes flowed from his fingers, broken skin staining the strings and body a bright red. He played on, not caring about the pain, only to appease the gods he played for. They listened in judging silents. As the notes slowed, he looked up, piercing blue eyes tired and shadowed.

 

He fell to his knees, his world going black as he was dragged to the world of the dammed.

* * *

 

“ah, fuck he juch, pached out.” The bassist grumbled sipping halfheartedly at his coffee.

 

“well, we can'ts just leaves him outs here.” the blond yawned out, leaning heavily on the door frame.

 

“brin'g him in'side then.” The red head sighed scratching his beard and re-tying his robe shut.

 

The raven haired singer sighed as he picked up the body of the man who has passed out. He walked inside and laid him down on the couch.

 

“Well, what ah, what do you boys want to do with him?” Spoke the manager.  


End file.
